You did not ask for this promotion

You got really good at the job nobody gave you a choice about. Now let's talk about what is next.

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Before you read another word, I want to show you something.

This morning I felt it coming — that low hum of agitation that can take a whole day down if you let it.

I didn’t let it.

I pulled out my new favorite reframing tool — Get To — and within minutes my energy shifted so completely that I grabbed my phone and did a live video. Unplanned. Unscripted. Three minutes of what it actually feels like when this works.

Watch it first. Then keep reading. You’ll feel the difference.

Curiosity Is the First Sign You’re Coming Back to Life

Somewhere around 60, a lot of people quietly get promoted to a job nobody applied for.

Family Operations Manager. Emergency Contact. Chief Fixer. Keeper of the Calendar. Holder of Everyone’s Feelings.

And you get really good at it.

You learn to anticipate needs before they’re spoken. You learn to stay calm in a storm. You learn how to hold grief in one hand and groceries in the other. You learn how to keep moving even when your insides are begging you to sit down.

So when your nervous system finally says, I’m done, it doesn’t always look like falling apart.

Sometimes it looks like numbness. Autopilot. Going through the motions of a life that used to feel like yours.

Not because you’re weak. Because you’ve been strong for too long.

And here’s what nobody says out loud.

When you’re living in constant responsibility, curiosity becomes a luxury.

Curiosity requires a little safety. A little space. A little oxygen. It is not what your body prioritizes when it’s busy scanning for the next emergency.

So if you’ve been thinking, What’s wrong with me? I don’t even feel curious anymore — I want you to hear me.

Nothing is wrong with you.

You’re not lazy. You’re not boring. You’re not old and past it.

You’re overloaded.

Curiosity didn’t die. It went underground. Like a bulb in winter, waiting for conditions that feel safe enough to push back up through the soil.

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Here’s what I’ve noticed about people who feel stuck

They’re not stuck because they lack discipline. They’re stuck because their life has become one long to-do list that belongs to other people.

They’re carrying other people’s illness. Other people’s fear. Other people’s grief. Other people’s needs.

And yes, sometimes those people are your husband, your mother, your best friend, your child.

I’m not saying don’t love them.

I’m saying love doesn’t mean you have to disappear.

Because here’s the harsh truth.

If you spend all your energy managing everyone else’s life, you eventually forget you have one.

And that’s where curiosity comes in. Not as a cute self-help prompt. As a signal.

Curiosity is the first sign your soul is coming back online.

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Curiosity is smaller than you think

It’s not “what should I do with my life.” That question is too big and too heavy and it will crush the flicker before it has a chance to breathe.

Curiosity is softer than that. Quieter.

Curiosity is: What do I want to learn? What do I want to try? What am I drawn to that makes zero practical sense?

Curiosity is the moment you stop asking what they need and start asking what you’re interested in. Even for thirty seconds.

And if you haven’t had that feeling in a long time, it can feel almost scandalous. Like you’re cheating on your responsibilities.

Good. That means you’ve been trained to think your wants are optional.

They are not optional. They are evidence that you’re still here.

Here are some curiosity questions that don’t require a personality transplant:

What do I want to read right now that isn’t about fixing myself? What would I do for an hour if nobody could ask me for anything? What do I miss that I pretend I don’t miss? What would I Google if nobody could see my screen? What feels interesting and slightly embarrassing to admit?

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Try this once a day

Ask yourself one question: What do I get to be curious about today?

Not what do I have to fix. Not what do I have to manage. Not what do I have to endure.

What do I get to wonder about.

Then take one tiny action that honors the question. Read one paragraph. Save one photo. Write one sentence. Buy one tube of paint. Walk into the room you’ve been avoiding. Open one tab.

One small act of curiosity is enough to begin rewiring your life back toward you.

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Here’s what curiosity looks like in my life right now

I’ll be honest with you, because that’s the only way I know how to do this.

I’m curious how far I can go with Substack. Not in a frantic, prove-something way. In a delighted way. Like, well look at this — what else is possible?

I’m curious what kind of art I’m going to make this year. It’s nearly March and I haven’t started a new piece yet. And instead of panicking, I’m letting the question hang in the air like a perfume.

I’m curious about YouTube. Long form video — storytelling, art, writing, life all woven together the way it actually lives inside me. I spent two years dismissing that dream as a play toy. Then I took a long nap, my soul apparently had a meeting without me, and I woke up knowing. No finish line. No grind. Just the sheer joy of doing what I was made to do.

And I’m curious about something that took real courage to admit even to myself.

I want to know if I can learn to not just accept my body — but genuinely love it. All of it. Every extra pound. Every line. Every part of me that doesn’t look the way the world says it should.

I’m curious whether I can become vitally, genuinely interested in movement — not as punishment, not as a plan to shrink myself, but as a daily practice of honoring the body that has carried me through everything.

That one is the rawest curiosity I have right now.

And I’m telling you because I know I’m not the only one who has it.

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Here’s the snarky part

You do not get a medal for becoming a woman who is useful but not alive.

You do not get bonus points for being the one who handles everything while your own dreams collect dust in the corner and your own body goes unappreciated and unloved.

That is not virtue.

That is abandonment.

And I say that with every ounce of love I have.

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If you’re in the trenches right now

If you’re caring for someone who is ill. If you’re moving a parent into hospice. If you’re still recovering from grief, a move, a diagnosis that changed everything.

Curiosity may not be a fireworks show for you right now.

It might be a match.

A tiny flicker.

Your job is not to build a bonfire today.

Your job is to protect the flicker.

Because that flicker — that small, stubborn, embarrassing, inconvenient, beautiful flicker of wanting something for yourself —

That flicker is you.

And you are worth protecting.

If this article speaks to you, I have something that goes deeper.

The Obligation Detox™ — five powerful mindset shifts with simple, actionable steps to help you clear the emotional clutter and reclaim your life. Without guilt. Without drama. Without apologizing to a single soul.

Get it right here. →

And if you’re ready to go further — to have a weekly companion on this journey back to yourself — I’d love to have you inside.

Annual subscribers get more of this. And a mug

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Come on in. →

If this piece made you nod, cry, or say "well damn" out loud — give it a heart and pass it on. Someone in your circle is waiting for exactly this.